


and it's wired for sound

by Vintar



Category: Borderlands
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vintar/pseuds/Vintar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Moxxi expects to find in Scooter's garage is an attractive woman. Well, besides herself, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it's wired for sound

Business is business, so Moxxi can't stay behind the bar all day. There's supplies to chase up, outstanding tabs to hunt down. She counts up the pocket money she's been able to frisk off of some rather ambitious would-be-thieves, and drives out to the Junction. Her thighs stick to the seat in the blaring hot sun, but she doesn't think Marcus's lingering gaze has anything to do with that. She gets a discount on a nice little assault rifle with a big clip and a lot of oomph, then decides to head down to the garage.

"Scooter, honey? I was just in the area, so I-- oh, hello."

Scooter jerks away from the woman he's talking to, startled and sheepish. "Oh, hi, ma. Didn't know you was around, you need anythin'? That racer of yours still runnin' okay?"

"It's fine, hon. I just wanted to say hi." Moxxi leans against the doorframe, smirks at the sight of the two of them. "Should I start expecting the pitter-patter of little feet?"

"Heh, well," starts Scooter--

"No," says the woman. Her voice is flat, but there's a hint of repulsion in it, more than the typical amount generated by proximity to Scooter. Moxxi's curiosity is instantly piqued.

"No," Scooter dutifully repeats, sighing. "The only little feet pitterin' and patterin' around here is that Atlas baby what runs the place." He jerks his head towards the woman in what he probably thinks is a subtle gesture. "An' 'parrently he's not long for this world, if you get what I'm sayin' here."

Moxxi raises an eyebrow at the woman. "You're going to kill a baby?"

The woman is in Atlas red, her armor form-fitting in a way that probably has less to do with freedom of movement and more to do with the proclivities of the men that designed it. Moxxi's seen the all-female killsquads around, though always from a rather discreet distance. Talking to one of Atlas's Amazons up close and in the flesh is a novelty... especially since this one seems more awkward than Moxxi would expect from a relentless trained killer. 

"I-- well-- more of a small child than a baby--" She gathers herself, sets her shoulders, and _there's_ the fire of a killer. "Atlas must pay."

Ah. An Atlas Amazon Assassin gone AWOL. _Definitely_ intriguing. Dangerous, and likely to get her and all of her allies executed by firing squad, but intriguing. Moxxi hasn't got to where she is without learning that the finer things in life are usually accompanied by the threat of imminent death. 

"I absolutely agree," Moxxi says. "Atlas should always pay. Those soldier boys are always trying to skip out on their tabs. What's the world coming to?"

The woman frowns at Moxxi, confused again. Moxxi smiles back at her, no true antagonism in her teasing. Little lost killing machines can be surprisingly fun to mess with when the topic isn't revenge, and this one seems like an interesting diversion. She doesn't seem to know where to look, her eyes darting away from Moxxi. Eventually she settles on staring resolutely out the window.

Scooter, of course, notices nothing. "You headin' back to the Fathoms? Athena here's goin out that way, ain't you?"

Athena nods slowly, warily. "I have some business with some... well, I have some business."

"Aw, my ma here'll be happy t'give you a ride!" Scooter slaps Athena on the back, then winces and shakes out his hand. "You come back here when you get them vault hunters all sorted out an' shit, aight?"

"I... guess." She looks at Moxxi, as uncertain as a stray cat. "Sure."

Moxxi's tamed more than one wary little pussycat in her time. She pats the seat. "Hop in, sugar. Mind the guns."

***

The highways are wide and open, and there's few lancers out and about in the stifling mid-cycle Pandoran sun. Heat rises from the concrete in gauzy rolling waves, warping the horizon. Beside Moxxi, Athena tugs silently at the collar of her armor.

Moxxi winks. "When we get to my bar, you can slip into something more comfortable."

There's a flush to Athena's face. "You're teasing me."

"That a problem, sugar?" 

It's a long stretch of road, no spiders or roadblocks in sight, so Moxxi leans back with her arms behind her head, props one heeled boot on the wheel. She eyes Athena, cocks her head.

The wheels are clearly spinning inside Athena's head, her frown back in place. It's a good frown, Moxxi thinks, those otherwise delicate features coming together into a dangerous sharp-edged glare. Moxxi can appreciate a good resting bitch face, and Athena is a natural-born champion at it.

"It's only a problem if you don't mean it," Athena grinds out. Her voice is a mix of mortification and something else entirely. She can't seem to look Moxxi in the eye, her gaze caught on the bare expanse of leg hitched up on the wheel, Moxxi's skirt puddling scandalously high on her lap.

Moxxi raises her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Oh, honey," she purrs, "I never say a thing I don't mean. It's so much more fun that way."

"Okay," says Athena, and then "Watch out for that spider."

"Sorry, sugar?" Moxxi says. "If that's a euphemism-- oh, skagshit!"

The racer takes the legs out from the giant spider drifting across the highway. Like a falling tree, it topples into the back seat, and all thoughts of anything euphemism-y are replaced by shrieking and flailing.

***

Spider messily dispatched and car dutifully parked, Moxxi gets out and makes her way over the barricade in front of her bar, her bag of shiny new guns clinking as she slings it over her back. Athena crosses it effortlessly beside her. When a bandit pops up, ready to rob the returning owner, Athena moves fast and efficient, jams a pistol under his chin, turns him into a grey matter volcano. Nice. Effective. Moxxi wishes she had a few more Athenas around the place, and dwells on _that_ idea while she gets out her keys.

Apparently she isn't the only one picking over some interesting ideas. When she closes the door to the Red Light behind her, Athena takes Moxxi's bag, sets it on the ground, then kisses her.

It's hard and full of military precision, and Moxxi wants to scold everyone who's taught this girl to kiss like that. She leans in to it, slides a hand up the back of Athena's neck, the other down low on her hip. When she slips a thigh between Athena's legs, Athena's breath hitches, her hands becoming fists as she grips Moxxi's shirt. Her kisses grow messier, sucking on Moxxi's tongue with an appealing clumsy neediness. When her hands settle on Moxxi's breasts, she groans.

She's cute. She's even cuter when she yanks off that cowl, her cropped-short hair messed in all directions. It's just long enough for Moxxi to get her fingers through it, so she does, tilting Athena's head back.

Athena is wide-eyed as Moxxi sucks on her throat. Her skin tastes of sweat and cheap military soap, her pulse racing under Moxxi's lips. "Okay, wow," she manages.

Moxxi can't help but laugh. "C'mon, sugar, you can't tell me you've never done this before. You and all those other lady assassins, working together, showering together, sleeping together..."

"I, uh..." The flush to her cheeks is back, and this time it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the sun.

"I knew it." Moxxi smirks. "C'mon, show little ol' me how they do things over at big scary Atlas."

Whoever this little lost assassin is, she clearly responds well to a challenge. She drops to her knees in front of Moxxi, looking up at her with those water-blue eyes as she yanks off her gloves, then runs her bare hands up beneath Moxxi's skirt. 

She may have pretty features, that wasp-waisted armor giving a delicacy to her frame, but those hands belong to a dyed-in-the-wool soldier. Moxxi lets out a sigh as Athena grips her thighs, tugs them apart with strong, calloused fingers. Moxxi's choice of undergarments are not traditionally known for their sturdiness; Athena yanks them down with a flicker of impatience, then leans forward.

Moxxi is fan of teasing and playfulness, but she can't deny that the direct approach certainly has its upsides. And, oh, this could be a quick thing, a few knee-wobbling minutes against a wall, but life is too short not to savor the good things, and Athena's mouth? That's definitely a good thing.

Moxxi puts a hand to Athena's forehead and gently guides her back. Athena stares up at her, suddenly tense, but instead of a reprimand, Moxxi slides her hand under Athena's jaw, stroking a thumb across her slick bottom lip.

"You said there was something you had to do out here, sugar?"

"I can put it on the backburner for a while," Athena pants.

Moxxi runs her fingers through Athena's close-cropped hair. "Good," she says, and tugs her forward again.


End file.
